


Three Times Helen Shot Nikola

by Deathofme



Series: Bingo Card [7]
Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Sanctuary Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathofme/pseuds/Deathofme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[For Sanctuary Bingo]</p><p>First was for scaring her. Second, for his own good. Third, for being a right cheeky bastard. Or, how Tesla learned to let go of the A-bomb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Helen Shot Nikola

**Author's Note:**

> Sanctuary Bingo prompt: Robert Oppenheimer

**Three Times Helen Shot Nikola**

 *******

 

         The first time Helen shot him was back in their Oxford days and luckily it was also after the source blood experiment and when he had become functionally immortal.

 

         It was Halloween night, and seeing that he was newly a vampire, it seemed the world was conspiring for him to pull the perfect prank. He had managed to climb on top of her four-poster bed and was maneuvering how best to hang upside down from the frame when Helen burst through the door unexpectedly.

 

         He heard a deafening bang, a shriek, and felt himself falling but was unconscious before the hit the ground.

 

         When he came to, he was in Gregory Magnus’ infirmary with a bandage wrapped around his head.

 

         “What on earth were you doing in my room?” Helen looked equal parts relieved and livid. He smiled weakly, gingerly feeling his head.

 

         “Trick or treat?”

 

         “I thought you were a madman or some pervert hiding in my room!”

 

         Gregory Magnus looked Nikola up and down wryly. “You’re not half wrong, love. Excellent shooting.”

 

         Nikola later found the bullet had struck him just an inch above his eyes. Sore, he was forced to wear a hat for the next week and Nigel laughed himself sick when he first saw him.

 

         The second time Helen shot him wasn’t an accident, but the one she most regretted.

 

         “He isn’t a madman. He’s brilliant.”

 

         Helen snorted. “Very high praise from you.”

 

         “I know. He could use my guidance. I can make his work reach its full potential.”

 

         She rolled her eyes. “And there it is.”

 

         Nikola looked mildly affronted. “Why should you dislike him?”

 

         “I don’t dislike Oppenheimer, I just think that the Manhattan Project lacks a significant amount of caution and responsibility.”

 

         “Responsibility? The work is monumental. The only responsibility a scientist has is to push past the naysayers and stiff-necked conservatives to unlock the secrets of the universe. Their new work with atoms is revealing to us the very building blocks of life. Besides, they’re doing this for their country, for the war effort.”

 

         Helen looked uncomfortable. She understood his sentiment and shared his passion, but the reports she was reading of the Manhattan Project were deeply unsettling. “This is going beyond discovery and aid, Nikola. This has the potential for destruction we cannot even conceive of.”

 

         He waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, that’s just the media hype to keep the investors interested and funding grants. Hundreds of military projects never reach practical application, but have cured diseases, brought peace—“

 

         Helen understood the look in his eye immediately and snapped, “You don’t truly mean to join the Manhattan team?”

 

         “Of course I am. I received a formal request last week.”

 

         “ _Think_ of what you’ll be doing!”

 

         She left, unable to reason with him further.

 

         The next week she agreed to see him off. She had read further reports of the project and the various tests they had conducted with fission. The extrapolation of the results implied devastation on an astronomical level she couldn’t fully comprehend.

 

         She held his hand, trembling, as they waited for his cab, “You’ve read the recent reports?”

 

         “I have.”

 

         She looked at him sadly. “You’re still going to join them, aren’t you?”

 

         He was unusually quiet and his tone was soft. “Helen, this is important work. It’s monumental. You’re right, the results are damning, but the work has so many other applications that will make the world a better place. I’ve already been drafting some prototypes of nuclear reactors. Clean, free energy.”

 

         She couldn’t help but smile and placed her hand against his face. “Then work on that instead. You don’t want to live with blood on your name.”

 

         “I can’t see their work or have any access to uranium without working for them. Besides, I don’t want to die without a name. I’ve made my accomplishments in silence. People only want to remember the mistakes I’ve made … the times I’ve fallen. I’ve already accepted that I will have no legacy, but being part of Manhattan, of something so big … I’ll be remembered for something.”

 

         “Nikola,” Helen grabbed his shoulders and her eyes bore into his. “Manhattan Project or not, you will have your name live on. People _will_ remember you. But if you join Oppenheimer you’ll be remembered as a murderer and no one will remember the good you’ve done.”

 

         He kissed her softly on the cheek, grateful for her concern, but his mind had already been made up. “I’m sorry, Helen. But I’ll stop chasing answers and new ideas when I’m dead.”

 

         Helen hung her head. She knew it would come to this. When he turned to look down the street for his cab, she shot him in the back of the head.

 

         He didn’t speak to her for a year afterward.

 

         She next saw him when she received an invitation to witness the Trinity Test, the first detonation. He was standing by himself and only looked up once when she sidled in beside him.

 

         The detonation rendered them speechless. A few assembled laughed in shock but most said nothing. Despite being in the safety of an observatory several miles away from the test site, her ears rang and she clutched onto Nikola’s arm for support.

 

         He was stunned silent, and they went into town for a stiff drink. He said nothing, shattered, until he had finished his first glass of port. “You were right,” he mumbled into his glass.

 

         “I’m sorry I took the choice out of your hands that day, Nikola. I just did what I thought was best, but I regret it.”

 

         He shook his head. “You saw sense where I could not. That thing will destroy nations. You were being a good friend.”

 

         She clasped his hand, grateful to have him back, but saddened to see him so disheartened. “I’m still sorry, Nikola.”

 

         The third time she shot him was when he suggested a very particular way she could make it up to him and cheer him up.

 

FIN


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